


Do it, pretty bunny

by GeneratorCat



Category: Batman (Comics)
Genre: Fluff, M/M, non-vigilante au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-23
Updated: 2015-04-23
Packaged: 2018-03-25 09:15:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,484
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3804940
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GeneratorCat/pseuds/GeneratorCat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“That guy? I’m getting punched,” he states matter-of-factly. The earth is round, The Flash is fast, and Tim will have a black eye in about ten minutes. </p><p>(Stephanie and Tim ride the subway and there is peer-pressure)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Do it, pretty bunny

**Author's Note:**

  * For [oldmythologies](https://archiveofourown.org/users/oldmythologies/gifts).



“Do it, Tim. Tim. _Timmy_ , do it.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“They’ll freak out and it’ll be awesome!”

“Steph, I’ll get punched in the face.”

“Yeah, well, that’ll still be awesome. Like, we would definitely win.”

Tim knows he’s lost the fight. Hell, he never really had a chance. But one last swing. “But why me? Why aren’t you doing it?”

Shaking her head at poor, naive Tim, she says simply, “I have to record it.”

Oh. Well. Obviously. Because for some reason Tim can’t be the one to record while Stephanie kisses a stranger.

Tim sighs. Defeat and resignation. Oh, how foul the taste. Like trying to cook for yourself and taking that first bite of crunchy pasta and tart sauce that you worked so hard for. The subway car jostles and he reaches out to grab a pole to stop himself from falling over. Stephanie doesn’t need to hold on to anything. She grew up on public transportation. She sways, riding the motion like a rider on a horse.

Stephanie looks around eagerly, examining the other people in the subway car. The possible victims. There’s a group of teenage girls chatting enthusiastically about the new Star Wars movie. Across from them a grey-haired businessman tries to look engrossed in his newspaper but secretly listens to the girls’ conversation. Tim can see him reacting, smiling or scoffing or nodding. Just a couple feet to the right of Stephanie sits a bored artist. Paint flecks dust her hair and skin and she clutches a sketchpad in her lap. She has slight wrinkles around her eyes that do nothing to detract from her beauty. Past her are three frat guys. They’re gossiping about the goings on around campus and that party last weekend and how that girl got knocked up. Tim cringes at the thought of kissing one of them.

Tim goes back to warily watching Steph as she assesses the candidates. Suddenly her face lights up as her eyes land on some poor soul. The creepy, vaguely green lighting exemplifies her wide grin. _Maniacal_ is the word Tim thinks with a shudder. She points. “Him!”

“That guy? I’m getting punched,” he states matter-of-factly. The earth is round, The Flash is fast, and Tim will have a black eye in about ten minutes. Steph laughs, not even denying it. Sizing up his target, Tim thinks he should have written his will. If he makes it home after this, he’ll make an appointment with the family attorney. He has a few valuables, like those rare comic books and vintage records. And his signed Green Day poster, of course. His parents would just throw out that stuff. Tim wants to make sure it goes to good people. Like Kon. And Cass. Certainly not Stephanie.

The guy that will be punching Tim in the face shortly is tall. Like, a good six inches taller than Tim. Who is average. Yes, 5’ 7” is average. The tall guy is a little older than Tim, could be twenty. He’s wearing loose, worn-in jeans and a Wonder Woman t-shirt. His shoes are huge and clunky, the kind construction workers wear. They’re probably steel-toed. Great. He can kick Tim to a pulp with shoes like that. Shit, this guy could kick Timmy senseless without shoes. He has black hair accept for the front part that’s white and Tim thinks that’s actually really fucking cool. He’ll be sure to ask whether or not that’s natural after the beating. Tim can’t see the guy’s eyes since he’s looking down at the book in his hand. Tim squints and… he can’t make out the title but can see the author is Philip K. Dick. Interesting.

Also, the Wonder Woman supporter slash eccentric dystopian science fiction reader is hot as fuck. Tim might not mind the inevitable pain if, for a moment, he gets to kiss that.

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

Tim nods. “Yeah.” His voice cracks. Cool.

Stephanie is jumping on the balls of her feet, ecstatic. “Yes, yes, yes! Now remember, _don’t_ saying anything. You can’t give him any warning. That’s the rule.”

“Fuck. Fuck Dick for starting this and fuck you for agreeing and dragging me into it.”

Rolling her eyes, she gives him a not very gentle nudge. “Oh stop. You’re having fun. Now hop to it.”

“I’m not a bunny,” he mumbles.

“Yes, you are, Timmy. Cute and fluffy.” Another shove. “Go on.” She tries for an encouraging smile at least, but with the excitement and impatience underneath it turns out terrifying. Tim moves toward the guy just to get away from Stephanie and her creepy-ass smile that only gets worse as she raises her phone. She points it at Tim and signals that she’s recording. He heaves a sharp breath, steeling himself.

Like a thief to the gallows, Tim walks across the rocking subway car. He positions himself in front of the guy who is still reading his no-doubt mind-fucking tale. It takes almost a full minute for him to notice Tim, who just stands quietly, shifting nervously. The guy looks up, regarding Tim expectantly and oh gosh, he has pretty eyes. They’re blue and perfect and Tim wants to run away but knows that Dick and Steph and pretty much everyone will mock him mercilessly should he do so. This is being recorded. Everyone will see it. Tim is going to kill Stephanie.

“Yes?”

Tim’s knees quiver a bit. “Um.” _Great start, little bunny_. But no, he’s not allowed to say anything. So Tim tries to force a telepathic message. Something along the lines of, _please, don’t freak out. I’m going to kiss you now, but it’s for a stupid competition between my stupid brother and my stupid friend._ Unfortunately, Tim isn’t actually telepathic. So no dice. The guy just looks more confused with every painful second that passes. And amused, maybe. Tim hopes that is amusement. That would mean he finds this funny or cute.

Throwing caution to the wind, along with any sense of self-preservation and self-respect, Tim leans in swiftly and plants a kiss on a stranger.

The man doesn’t move. Tim doesn’t move. Neither has moved and neither has shut their eyes, so they’re staring at each other. Kissing. It’s awkward, to say the least. At least the guy hasn’t pushed him away yet, although that’s most likely due to shock.

Tim hears Stephanie gasp.

Fuck it. If he’s doing this, he’s doing it _right_. If he’s going down, he’s going down _spectacularly_. Tim closes his eyes and tilts his head a bit more. Leaning in closer, he kisses the beautiful man properly. Moves his lips and- _well, why not?-_ adds some tongue. Just a little. After a solid twenty seconds (which is much longer than one would think in this context) he figures he’s done his job. Tim pulls away and braces himself for the punch.

The train is silent except for Stephanie choking on her giggles.

The boy is just staring at Tim, who just stares back.

Second pass. Stephanie is cackling, hunched over, facing turning red, phone shaking but trained on the scene.

“Huh,” the boy says. And grabs Tim by his waist and reels him in like a prize fish. He kisses Tim, this time being an active participant. Very active. There’s a lot of lips and tongue and warmth and- _oh fuck_ , Tim just made a freaking embarrassing noise. A whine, really. And Steph recorded it. Speaking of Steph, she’s currently cheering.

“Woo! Hell yeah! Get it, little bunny!”

Well, at least she didn’t—

“Timothy Jackson Drake, everybody!”

Ah. There it is.

By now, the other passengers have taken notice. How could they not, with Stephanie whooping and catcalling. Most of them are laughing. The group of girls is cooing like is the sweetest thing they have ever seen in their lives, more precious than baby panda bears. The frat guys even throw in their own encouragements. Tim honestly never thought he would ever hear the phrase, “Get a handful of that ass, Timothy Drake!”

The stranger ends the kiss and leans back, grinning. He offers a hand. “Jason.”

Tim takes it, shakes it. “Tim.”

“Yeah,” the guy—Jason—glances at Stephanie and the applauding bystanders. “I caught that.”

Laughing only somewhat awkwardly, Tim releases Jason’s hand. He then realizes what a weird situation this is and that he has no idea what to do now.

But Jason does. He takes out a pen from his jeans pocket and grabs Tim’s hand again. He writes some numbers. Tim flinches because it tickles. And then he freezes because Jason just wrote his phone number.

“Um.” _Smooth, Tim. You dork. Say words now. Any words will do._

Jason smirks, moving away. The train has stopped and the doors are opening.

“Later, pretty bunny.” Jason steps off the train.

Stephanie shrieks with laughter. “We are so winning!”

Tim agrees. That was one hell of a reaction.


End file.
